


You never forget your first

by Phantom_Valheru



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: 19 year old virgins only think about sex, Coming Out, Kevin is a horn dog, M/M, McKinley's dad is pissed, Trigger for shit parenting, mcpricely - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, there isn't any sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_Valheru/pseuds/Phantom_Valheru
Summary: Connor McKinley is gay.And not just a little bit gay.  He is a flamboyant, extravagant, over the top homosexual that loves feathers and sequins and tap dancing.Kevin Price is straight.  Until a ginger boy comes out to his father and needs a little tenderness.(Set after the musical)
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	You never forget your first

Connor McKinley was a good Mormon. He had studied hard as a child, he knew his scriptures. He set a good example for his peers. Outwardly, he was everything a mother could be proud of. Conscientious, kind, always willing to help.

And he liked structure. Being in the Mormon faith was like being on a set of rails. He knew exactly where he was going, and exactly what he needed to do to get there. His whole future was set out before him, governed by very specific rules. Follow them, and he was destined for greatness.

There was one tiny problem with this picture of Connor McKinley. One fly in the ointment, that meant that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many rules he followed, or how many people he baptised into the faith, he was never going to paradise in the latter days.

Connor McKinley was gay.

And not just a little bit gay. He was a flamboyant, extravagant, over the top homosexual that loved feathers and sequins and tap dancing. If you looked in the dictionary for ‘stereotypical gay man’, there would be a picture of Connor’s face. And it was everything he could do, every moment of his life, not to let his secret out.

But then, about a month ago, two new Elders joined him and his companions at their mission in Uganda. And they changed _everything_. While Connor was trying very hard not to be gay, Arnold Cunningham was giving hope to a dozen African people. While Connor was freaking out about writing a report to the mission president – trying to put a positive spin on ‘we haven’t baptised anyone’ – Kevin Price was being sexually assaulted and having the very core of his faith rocked.

Connor can’t say he particularly enjoyed the African play. His sensibilities were still closeted and naive. And being told he was no longer a Mormon _hurt._ He’d spent most of that evening in a blind panic, trying to figure out exactly who he was if he wasn’t a Mormon anymore. Despite Kevin’s calm platitudes, _he_ wasn’t ready to believe there wasn’t a God. And he’d never – willingly – broken a rule before in his life. But as the days and weeks passed, he realised he could still be a good person and still help the African people even if he didn’t go to bed at 10pm or spend two hours of his day studying the scriptures. Instead, he spent the days digging in soil to help plant sustainable food, or helping thatch yet another hut that had had it’s roof torn off in the storm. 

So all in all, Connor McKinley was at a strange sort of peace with his new situation, even if he hadn’t chosen it, or asked for it. And, he was starting to allow himself to think about just how much he enjoyed Kevin Price’s company. It would never go anywhere of course, Kevin was straight, and he’d never do something so bold as to make the other man uncomfortable, but it was still a sweet sort of rush in the middle of his chest to just _feel_. 

That was, of course, until his father showed up on the mission hut doorstep.

~~~~

The knock was gentle, tentative, like whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure they were in the right place. Connor was curious. The Ugandan’s they shared Kitguli with would more often than not just shout from the pathway to whomever it was they wanted. Or they just walked right in. They didn’t have the same sense of propriety that Connor was used to. So to have someone actually knock suggested that it was a stranger. Maybe someone who actually wanted to know about their teachings? Connor let out an undignified snort at the thought as he opened the door and came eye to eye with his father. 

Connor’s first thought was that his dad was not dressed for the African heat. His second was blind panic. His heart got lodged somewhere in his throat and he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

What was he doing _here_?

“Dad.” Connor stood in the doorway, his hand still glued to the door handle, not even sure what he was supposed to do next. His brain was reeling, and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. 

“Mr McKinley.” A forceful hand appeared above Connor’s and widened the door. Kevin Price stood behind him with one of his 100 watt smiles, “Come in!”

Connor obediently moved to the side, and watched mutely as his father stepped over the threshold. 

“Have a seat.” Kevin gestured towards the couch in the corner of the rec room, then turned to Connor, commanding his attention, “Why don’t you make some tea?”

Instructions Connor could follow. He shut the door and headed to the kitchen, catching the faint look of disgust on his father William’s face as he sat down. Connor frowned. He and the other boys worked hard to keep their space clean and tidy. As least as clean and tidy as you could when you didn’t own industrial grade cleaning equipment and you didn’t have enough room for any of your things.

When he returned with the tea (green, left over from their time as Mormons. He’d had to push past three bags of coffee beans to find it), he’d regained his composure, and he mentally reminded himself to thank Kevin later. The two men were engaged in a conversation about life back in the States – something calm and non-confrontational. His father was too polite to bring up the elephant in the room with a complete stranger.

“Connor.” His father’s frowned deepened, tinged with confusion as his father seemed to see him properly for the first time. “What are you wearing?”

Connor looked down at himself. Their formal mission shirts were not suitable for manual labour, so all the boys tended to go around in their singlets, and Connor had long since cut his black trousers at the knees. No one had a sewing machine, but he’d asked Kimbay to hand sew the hem. No tie. His hair wasn’t brushed. He wore boots he’d spent precious money on during a rare trip into Kampala, only because he liked his shiny mission dress shoes and he hadn’t wanted to paint them in mud. They’d been a gift from his sister.

The panic was back, “Well. Uh. It’s Africa.” He shrugged, because he knew any response he could give wouldn’t be sufficient. The fact was that he was out of uniform. Out of Mormon uniform, at any rate. He shot panic eyes at Kevin, who shrugged, but kindly settled deeper into his chair, pretending not to see the pointed looks William was giving him. He wasn’t going to make Connor face his father alone.

Realising that Kevin had no intention of leaving, his father rounded on Connor, his manner brisk, “Now. What’s all this I hear about you leaving the church? I spoke to the Mission President and he explained everything. And while the other missionaries _were_ your responsibility, he agrees you had nothing to do with that blasphemy Elder Cunningham told the Africans. He’s agreed to let you back, provided you are posted somewhere else and you aren’t put in charge. I think it’s reasonable. Pack your things son, you are coming home.”

Connor choked on his tea, spilling the hot liquid across his lap. He glanced at Kevin, whose smile had frozen on his face, his eyes like murderous saucers. He was very protective of Arnold Cunningham these days, very quick to jump to the other’s defence for the least amount of provocation. 

“Actually sir.” Kevin’s words were polite, but his tone was hard, “Arnold Cunningha-“

“Please.” William cut him off with a sharp gesture, “I know who you are, Kevin Price. You are just as much to blame for this whole debacle. It’s bad enough you and Cunningham have sprouted your blasphemous drivel to the people here, but why did you have to bring these other boys down with you? They were good Mormon’s, and you ruined their lives. It was all I could do to get Connor accepted back into the Church. There is nothing you can say to me that would excuse what you’ve done here.” Apparently deciding that was the end of the matter, William McKinley turned back to his son.

But Kevin Price was no longer that golden child that had left the United States. And his passion now was for a young man named Arnold, and the work that they had been doing for the Ugandan people. He believed in it with the same tenacity that had driven his previous faith, and Connor knew he’d not take a back seat to William’s criticism, “I _am_ to blame.” He spoke, slowly rising from his chair, “And while I regret any pain I caused my mission fellows, we have done more good in the last four weeks than any Mormon had done for these people since they got here four months ago. And I will not apologise for that. These people didn’t need platitudes and stories from 100 years ago. They needed real solutions, and we gave them that. And I am proud.” Kevin finally stopped to take a breath, and Connor shrank a little deeper into his chair, because his father’s face was bright red and he wasn’t sure if the other man was going to legitimately explode, “And I know.” Kevin continued, softer now, “That Connor is proud too.”

“Leave us. Please.” William spoke in clipped tones to Kevin. The older man wasn’t even looking at him, apparently trying to keep the last shred of his temper under control.

Kevin glanced at Connor, who nodded numbly, his eyes falling shut with the inevitability of the conversation he needed to have with his father. Kevin was actually doing the opposite of helping, and Connor had a feeling he’d have a better chance of calming everything down without the main antagonist in the room. Kevin left towards the sleeping quarters, his own dignity still in check. Connor took a slight comfort in the fact that he was still within yelling distance. Not that he was in any particular fear of his father, but he liked having an ally close by.

“Dad-“

“Connor.” William cut him off with the same brusque tone he’d used on Kevin, “Pack your bags. We’re going,”

“I’m not going.” Connor sat a little straighter, setting his mug down on the small coffee table next to his chair, “I’m really glad you came down here to check on me, but I’m doing fine and I want to stay for the rest of my mission and help these people.”

“What are you talking about? Don’t you understand son, you are no longer a Mormon. You can’t finish your mission. You are disgraced Connor. You have ruined everything your mother and I have worked for. You should see her. She doesn’t even leave the house anymore she’s so embarrassed. You need to come home and sort this out right now.”

“I’m sorry for that.” Connor waited a heartbeat and took a deep breath to centre himself. Getting into a yelling match with his father would only mean he’d lose. His father had so much more practice than he did, and Connor was never great at confrontation, “I’m sorry if I disappointed you. But Kevin is right. We are doing good here. And I want to stay.”

“If those boys _are_ doing work, while being able to turn their back on God and His teaching,” William sounded very sceptical at this point, “then let them continue. You don’t understand, Connor. They’ve brainwashed you into thinking you don’t need the Church. They’ve poisoned your mind. I need to get you away from here so you’ll realise how just far off the path you’ve strayed. Once you are back surrounded by the congregation, all of this will seem like a bad dream.”

Connor’s entire body trembled at his father’s words. The nightmares about going to hell that had plagued him since puberty had quietened the last few weeks, when being gay was no longer his only ticket to hell. It had finally been quiet, and peaceful in his head, especially when he could close his eyes and hear Poptarts soft breathing from across the room and imagine it was someone who loved him by his side. .

Connor swallowed hard again, feeling dizzy and tired, “Please father. Please listen...”

But his father was already heading purposefully toward the sleeping quarters, shaking his head in what could only be disappointment, “Which room is yours?”

“Dad, I...”

“Come on, Connor. If we hurry we can catch the last bus this afternoon.”

“You don’t understand... I can’t… I can’t go back.”

William stopped, and turned back towards Connor, “What do you mean, you can’t? I’ve told you the Mission President has agreed... and your mother will forgive you when she see’s you are working hard again. Don’t be silly, son.”

“Please listen dad.” Connor’s eyes were closed, his breathing rapid, knowing what he had to say, terrified of what it meant. He couldn’t lie, he never had (because denying a truth from ever existing was not the same as lying) and he couldn’t return to America and put the cat back in the box. “Dad. Dad. DAD I’M GAY!” The last was shouted, the words expelling themselves from Connor’s mouth in a rush, hanging in the air between him and his father like a barrier. A solid wall of difference and shame and release.

He’d never said it out loud before. Only in the deepest, darkest moments of the night when he was alone and shaking, had he even allowed himself to think it. 

His father was still, his body so cold and rigid Connor might have thought he was dead, had he not been standing up. Connor sat, knowing he was only moments away from falling down. His vision was swimming before his eyes and he was having trouble breathing again. He closed his eyes, trying to draw breath, trying to stop the nausea and the panic. The silence in the room felt like a wet blanket against him, pushing against his chest, trying to smother him. He could feel his body shaking and –

A firm, strong hand landed on his shoulder, and his eyes flew open to look into the deep, kind eyes of Kevin Price. The other’s face was set in one of concern, only an inch away, and the mere physical presence of him was enough to ground Connor. His body was still shaking, but at least he could breathe, shallow and rapidly. His eyes roamed the living quarters, but his father was gone, “Where... My dad?”

“I don’t know.” Kevin got up from his crouch in front of Connor, and sat on the couch next to him, their thighs pressed tightly together, Kevin’s hand still hard on his shoulder, “I heard the front door slam. It rocked the hut. When I came in you were sitting here shaking with your eyes screwed shut.”

Connor still couldn’t cease the tremors and the hand that was on his shoulder snuck out to grab his hand instead, gripping it tight enough to hurt. It was enough to still the roaring in his ears.

“It’s alright.” Kevin was usually larger than life, bold and exciting and sure of himself. To have his voice drop low and comforting sent a different kind of shiver through Connor, “What ever he said to you. We’re all here. It’ll be alright.”

Connor just shook his head. It could never be alright again. 

~

Connor followed his father out into the bright afternoon sunlight, having composed himself long enough to receive at least one full lungful of air. It was not out of any real desire to continue the conversation, but because he was worried his father might wander _too_ far. The area around the village was _generally_ safe – the wild animals didn’t like the fires or the stink of so many humans – but you could never be too careful. 

His dad was inspecting a small storage shed the ex-Mormon missionaries were half-way through building – a sort of experiment before they tackled building actual houses. Only a handful of them were actually handy with outside tools, and none of them had anything resembling engineering backgrounds. The trial and error approach was equally fun and frustrating, with both help and hinderance from the Ugandan’s.

“Ah, Connor.” Having caught sight of him, his father gestured to the building, “This is good. But your timbers aren’t very strong. Someone sneezes on this thing and it’s going to come down.”

Connor halted mid-step, more than a little confused. His father was smiling at him, as though Connor’s panic attack and the shattering of his entire life’s focus hadn’t just occurred ten minutes ago. And then Connor realised. William had been the one to teach him to ‘turn it off’ when he was a young boy. It made complete sense that the older man had decided their earlier conversation had never happened.

“Dad.” Connor straightened his shoulders, “I can’t go back to the way things were. I am gay.” He forced the words out, because they had started to get stuck in his throat, “And-“

“Nonsense. Really Connor. You spend a few months surrounded by young men, of course you are going to get confused. What, you think that one of them might like you? Those good Mormon boys?

“It isn’t about them. This is about me. About how I feel. How I’ve felt dad, ever since I was ten. I like boys. And I don’t want to pretend anymore. And I don’t want to go back to Utah and lie for the rest of my life. I’m not confused. And I’m not going to turn it off.”

William McKinley went still again, and when he spoke, his voice was very low, “Have any of them touched you?”

“What?” Connor couldn’t keep the surprise off his face, “No, dad. It’s not like that. I haven’t... I mean... no one has...” he stopped again, took a breath, tried to order his thoughts, “I haven’t done anything with anyone yet.”

“Then there is still hope.” William seemed to be speaking to himself. He pointed toward the mission hut, “We can fix you. Get your things.”

In the past, the no-nonsense tone would have sent Connor McKinley scrambling to do his father’s bidding. It was the line that he had crossed; pulling his sisters hair, stealing her diary, hiding worms in her bed. He was _in trouble_ , and the consequences weren’t going to be pretty.

But like Kevin, Connor was also no longer the good Mormon that had left Utah full of hope and excitement. He wasn’t going to be cowed by his father’s wrath. He was a man, and he had made a decision for his life, and deep down in his heart, he knew there was only one way he was going to be able to live that life.

He glanced towards the hut. Kevin was there at the doorway, keeping an eye on proceedings, but not interfering. He gave Connor the barest of nods, shoring him to this place, to the life they and the other ex-Mormons were going to build together. He wasn’t alone. And while he was about to lose his family, he wasn’t afraid that it would be the only family he’d ever know. Because Connor had no illusions as to what his father’s reaction was going to be.

“No. I’m not leaving with you. You…you need to go now.”

“No? Connor, do you have any idea what you are doing? What you are going to do to your mother? This will destroy her. Do you want that responsibility? And how is your sister ever going to show her face at church again?” With every sentence, William’s voice was raising, his temper, so long kept in check bubbling over the surface directly at Connor, “You think Kevin Price is your new prophet? Your saviour? That he knows better than 200 years of religion?! He’s a cancer that needs to be cut out of your life! He’s destroyed everything you’ve worked for and he’s going to send you to hell with him if you –“

“This is not about Kevin!” Connor realised the entire Ugandan village could probably hear them at this point, but he continued anyway, “This is not about anyone else except me! ME! Why can’t you accept that?! Why can’t you just hear the words I’m saying and GO AWAY.”

William hesitated, and Connor wondered if finally finding his voice had surprised his father. When he finally found his voice it was cold and measured again, “I’m only going to say this once, Connor. Either go and get your things right now, or you are never welcome home again. I swear to Heavenly Father that I will _not_ have you enter my house full of sin and corruption, to spread your filth to the rest of your family. You will never have contact with your mother again. You’ll be dead to us.”

Connor felt cold. His stomach dropped like the world was falling away, and he stood numbly as his father walked away. He had known it was going to happen. He understood. But hearing the words out of his father’s mouth was something else entirely. His father disappeared into the main part of the village proper. The bus was maybe half an hour away. Connor still had time. He could catch up to his father, apologise, fix everything. But he couldn’t move, stuck in the dusty African soil, without a family, without a home, Connor the nobody, who had chosen to leave behind everything he’d even known, and wanted, and he couldn’t even remember why.

And then Kevin was there, his strong arms enveloping Connor, drawing him tight against his chest. Kevin didn’t like to be touched, all the boys knew that. But there he was, gently smoothing back Connor’s hair, holding him tight enough so that he didn’t fall apart. Connor was shaking again, his whole body violently trembling, but Kevin held on, his voice whispering things in Connor’s ear that he couldn’t hear. Connor clung back, his fingers twisting around Kevin’s shirt, his tears soaking into the dirty fabric. They stayed like that for an eternity, long after Connor’s father had left, into the twilight. Eventually the shaking and the tears stopped, and Connor just stood in Kevin’s arms and tried to breathe. Tried to find a place in his mind calm enough to allow him to stand on his own.

The others kept away. Who knew what they thought, but the argument that Connor had had with his father hadn’t exactly been discreet. It was a good bet the entire village knew what had happened, and were allowing him the time he needed to re-group. 

“McKinley.” Kevin’s voice cut through the roar in Connor’s ears, quite insistent. Connor wondered how long Kevin had been trying to get his attention, “Connor. Connor, we have to go inside. You're getting eaten alive.”

Connor looked down, and as he saw the swarm of mosquitos around his legs he also became fully aware of the thousand and one bites they’d already inflicted on him. He nodded numbly against Kevin, and then allowed Kevin to take his hand and tow him back to the mission hut. It was empty as they entered, but the others must be around. Curfew was still in place, not because of rigid Mormon rules, but just because it was dangerous outside and most of the wild animals hunted at night. Kevin led Connor into his room, then sat down next to him on his bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Connor shook his head. He was so tired he couldn’t even form any words.

“You were really brave. I’m so proud of you, standing up to him. I know it couldn’t have been easy. But you did a great job.”

Connor lay down against his pillow, curling up into a ball, letting Kevin’s words wash over him, “Will you stay? Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Connor felt Kevin get up, then heard some fabric rustling, and then the sharp scraping as he pushed Poptart’s bed next to his. Kevin lay down next to Connor, then reached out with a sure hand, “I’m here for you.”

~

Kevin Price was a bad Mormon. He hated following rules, he liked to swear even when the situation never called for it, and he had been instrumental in convincing eight Mormon boys to renounce their church and give up life as they knew it.

He was also falling in love with Connor McKinley.

All in all, he was probably the worst Mormon to have ever failed his mission. 

Kevin didn’t know if he was gay. Were you gay if you were only attracted to one man? He definitely still liked ladies. And he didn’t find anyone else attractive. He wasn’t even sure if he was attracted _that way_ _._ His brain automatically shied away from any intimate thoughts, and he hadn’t paid enough attention to know if his particular situation had a label. What he did know was that right now, lying with McKinley in his arms felt _good._

He hadn’t thought it would. Up until now, Kevin’s thoughts hadn’t strayed far beyond the friendship he found with Connor McKinley. But there was something about the other man that managed to quiet Kevin’s ever working brain. When he was around McKinley, he was concentrating on that smirk, or those expressive eyebrows the exact same ginger as his hair. He wasn’t thinking about African Generals or how sometimes it still hurt to use the toilet. He wasn’t worried about infections or his nightmares. He was watching those clever hands turning the soil and asking questions about tap dancing and jazz. McKinley was endlessly fascinating, and Kevin, oddly, felt safe with him in a way he couldn’t explain. And then he’d gone and touched him, and now Kevin couldn’t stop his heart thudding away in his chest every time he thought about it. When he’d been hugging McKinley, after the other’s father had left, Kevin had felt like his own soul was breaking in two. He’d never felt for anyone that way before, and he wasn’t sure what any of it meant. And even though he was a bad Mormon, he didn’t know if he had the guts to tell McKinley how he felt. Because they were stuck together here, a million miles away from everything familiar, and while McKinley was obviously gay, Kevin didn’t know the first thing about it. And right now, he was just happy being the one to comfort McKinley through his pain.

After he was sure McKinley was sleeping, he’d gotten up to check on the other boys, reassuring them that McKinley was going to be okay and asking Poptarts to bunk with Cunningham. He wanted to be there in case McKinley woke up in the middle of the night… he also wanted to lie back down next to him and feel his heart beating against his hand. Just so McKinley would know he was there and not feel alone. Not because it gave Kevin a small warm glow in the middle of his chest.

~

Kevin woke slowly, something heavy on his chest and the early morning African light shining against his eyelids. He breathed deep, and the something on his chest stirred, and then was suddenly gone. Kevin opened an eye, and watched McKinley sit up abruptly, severing any physical connection between them. The other boy swung his legs off the bed and ran a hand through his hair, “Sorry.” He murmured, “I didn’t mean to...” 

“It’s alright.” Kevin missed the warmth McKinley’s body had provided against his chest, “I’m glad you slept well.”

“I did.” McKinley managed to give him a small smile, “The best I have in a while actually….. I have bad dreams.” He elaborated when he saw Kevin’s confusion.

Kevin nodded and sat up. Suddenly the sharp lines of McKinley’s shoulder blades were right next to his head. He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to dispel the sudden urge to run his finger along the soft skin, just to see what it felt like. McKinley turned to look over his shoulder, and it may have been Kevin’s imagination, but he could have sworn the other man’s breathing hitched at their close proximity.

“What are you going to do? About your father?”

Kevin had said the first thing he could think of to try and dispel the tension, imagined or otherwise. And it worked. McKinley turned away and stared up at the low ceiling, and shrugged those fine shoulder blades in resignation, “There isn’t much I can do. According to them, being gay is wrong. Sinful. Filth and depravity. But I’m not any of those things.” McKinley turned his head again to look at Kevin, his usually perfectly gelled hair falling into his eyes, “And I can’t go back there knowing that’s what they think of me.”

Without real conscious thought, Kevin reached out to pull McKinley’s hair back out of his face. Half way through the movement he realised what he was doing. McKinley stiffened, and Kevin’s hand stopped inches from actually touching him. They sat frozen for what seemed like an eternity to Kevin before he coughed self consciously, pulled his hand away and turned himself towards the other side of the bed, awkwardly crawling over the mattresses until he could stand up.

“You hid it. Before.” Kevin spoke to the wall, pretending to tuck in his shirt, fix his hair, do anything but look at McKinley, “Was it so easy to turn off?“ he was hoping the question would make the other man forget what just happened. Kevin himself isn’t even sure what had happened. Or why it was happening now, all of a sudden.

“That was different. I wasn’t turning it off so much as denying it ever existed… but now that I’ve thought about it... It’s like a dam wall... once the cracks have appeared, there is no putting the water back.”

Kevin felt the simile was apt. Now that he’d thought about McKinley _that way_ , he was having trouble thinking about anything else.

“What about you?” McKinley brought his thoughts back to the present, “You were the poster child for Mormonism. Do you really not believe any of it anymore? Is it okay that I’m gay?”

Kevin snorted inelegantly and sat back down on the other side of the bed, “I still believe in some things. Like being a good person and helping people. But the church used to teach that there was something wrong with you because of the colour of your skin. I feel like if He was all knowing, He would have figured it out sooner. I don’t believe He has got it all right... and if He can be wrong about people of colour, He can be wrong about gay people too.” Kevin stood up again and started to pace around the room. Without consciously thinking about it, he’d made the decision to just tell McKinley how he felt. Because Kevin Price had never wanted for much in his life, and he knew the best way to get anything was to just ask.

And smile.

~

“I have to talk to you about something.”

It was several days later, and Kevin had finally decided to bite the figurative bullet. He’d mulled over his words ever since his decision in McKinley’s room, and while none of them ever really worked in his head, he’d decided not to waste any more energy on ‘what if’. Kevin was a man of action, and spending too much time on thought after he’d made a decision was never really his thing.

McKinley was a little sadder since his encounter with his father, but seemed to counteract that by throwing himself bodily into his role of district leader. He seemed to be everywhere at once, helping out, rostering jobs. He had even started up a little dance school for the younger children in the village. As a result, Kevin found it incredibly hard to get McKinley alone. In the end, he concocted a reason, pulling McKinley down to the creek on the slim pretence that he’d lost his good shirt last washing day, and needed help to find it. 

“About what?” It was hot, and McKinley was taking the brief respite from their ‘searching’ to sit on the bank with his toes in water. 

“About us, actually.” Kevin leant against a tree a few steps away, nervous, but confident. Either McKinley would reciprocate, and Kevin could finally give in to the insatiable urge to run his hands through the others hair, or he wouldn’t, and Kevin could throw away the ridiculous notion and get on with his life. Nowhere in Kevin’s mind would he allow himself the notion that his heart might break in two if McKinley rejected him

“Is something wrong?”

“No. You see, it’s just that…” Kevin coughed. The words, so often formed in his head, were struggling to come out. He took a breath and squared his shoulders, “I like you. A lot. And I was wondering if you thought there was a chance we might have something.”

McKinley’s eyebrows ended up somewhere in his hairline, and he leant back against his arms, staring up at him, his face etched in surprise and confusion, “….What? Sorry. I just thought I heard you say you _liked_ me.”

Kevin chuckled. He smiled, although not his Mormon smile, because it was fake now and it never came naturally anymore. This smile was soft, full of warmth and his affection for the other man, “You didn’t mishear me, Connor McKinley. I’m asking if you’d like to be with me. So that we were an us. Together.”

“I didn’t know you… had those kinds of feelings.” McKinley had a small smile on his face, perhaps one of building excitement, but kept in check and tinged with confusion.

“I don’t. I mean, I haven’t. Not before now. Not before you.” Kevin sunk down to the ground, digging his rough fingernails into the hard red soil, glancing up at McKinley every so often as he spoke, “Something has happened to me since I met you. And I don’t just mean leaving the Church or being assaulted by an African Warlord. You’ve...” he shrugged, “I don’t know how to explain it. But I look at you... and I just want more. More of your smile, your voice. I want to know what you’re thinking and what makes you laugh. I want...” Kevin suddenly stopped, his face going red as his thoughts continued his unspoken desires. _I want to touch you and find out what makes you moan._

“No one has ever said anything like that to me before.” McKinley was looking over at him intently, his voice awed, “You really mean it?”

“I do. Please, Connor. Just tell me and put me out of my misery.” Kevin was starting to feel faintly sick, like he had when he realised he wasn’t going to Orlando. McKinley was stalling, and Kevin had a sinking suspicion he knew why, “Am I absolutely crazy?”

“You aren’t.” McKinley stood, and like a puppet on a string, Kevin stood with him. The other man took three steps, stopping in front of Kevin, close enough to touch, “You aren’t crazy. I didn’t think I’d ever get to be with you. I thought you were straight. I didn’t want to...”

“I was. But I don’t think I am anymore... Can I..?” Kevin reached out, and with a nervous giggle McKinley nodded. Kevin ran his fingers through the soft ginger locks, not even knowing why it delighted him so much. Kevin let his fingers linger down the side of McKinley’s face, his heart thumping so loud in his ears he was sure McKinley could hear it, “I’ve never done this before.”

McKinley reached up and let his fingers caress the hand against his face. The sensation of McKinley’s fingers against his sent Kevin’s brain into overdrive, “Shall we take it slow?”

“No.” Kevin’s voice was strained, and without conscious thought his fingers kept trailing across the other’s skin, across his cheek, down below his ear and across his neck, “I don’t want to.”

“Good.” McKinley reached down and kissed him, both hands coming up to hold his face. It was a chaste kiss, soft and tentative, both boys adjusting to the new sensation. But it wasn’t long before McKinley deepened it, pressing himself against the other man, his hands roaming, touching, pulling indecently against the clothing restricting access to skin.

Due to having overcompensated most of his life, McKinley had kissed girls before, but this was Kevin’s first. He’d always been too busy studying or reading scriptures or figuring out the best line times at Disneyworld. It was a different world, locked inside McKinley’s embrace, his body humming. 

Suddenly McKinley’s hands were pulling Kevin’s shirt out from where it was tucked into his pants and Kevin’s mind instantly rebelled. He tried to speak, but with McKinley’s tongue against his lips it was much harder than he expected it to be.

“Woah. Wait. Connor.” He managed to grab McKinely’s face and pull him away, resting his forehead against the others, his breathing laboured. “Here? Now? Like this?”

“Yes.” McKinley had managed to work his hands underneath Kevin’s shirt, and his fingers were burning trails against his stomach, “Those walls at the mission hut are thin. _Believe me_.” McKinley moved his hands higher, pulling his head away while his fingers unerringly found Kevin’s nipples. He looked up through his lashes, his own breathing short, his lips swollen and red, “We can’t exactly book a hotel room.”

Kevin closed his eyes, trying to suppress the whimper that wanted to escape, not inclined to argue any further. McKinley moved closer again, his lips and his tongue descending against the pulse point in his neck, and this time Kevin did moan, only faintly caring that they weren’t _that_ far from the village and anyone would come across them.

The thought sent an entirely different feeling through Kevin, and it wasn’t all together unpleasant. He smiled to himself, then grabbed McKinley’s head from where it was trailing fire across his abdominal muscles. He pulled the other man towards him and kissed him hard, then spun them both, pushing McKinley up against the tree he’d only so recently been leaning against, “Well then. Let’s figure out how this works.”

Connor gasped as he felt Kevin making his way down his body, tingles shooting up his spine and down his fingertips. So maybe he wasn’t a good Mormon, but if this was what being a bad Mormon felt like, well, maybe he didn’t want to be good.

**Author's Note:**

> So much love and thanks to CallofTheCurlew, the most amazing sister and writing partner a girl could have. For the beta, for being a sound board, and for all of the endless trips to the theatre.


End file.
